


death to my hometown

by Pippin



Series: pick up the rock son, carry it on [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Friendship, M/M, Outing, hockey rpf - Freeform, real hockey players
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: Secrets cannot be kept forever, no matter how hard one tries.  And Kent and Tater tried.





	death to my hometown

Kent was woken by his doorbell going off repeatedly, someone banging on the door between rings.  Groggy, he headed to the door, ready to yell at whoever stood there.  Practice wasn’t until the afternoon, damn it all, and he had wanted to sleep in.

Kent pulled open the door, but before he could even open his mouth Swoops muscled past him, heading directly for Kent’s room.  Kent followed, utterly perplexed by what the everloving fuck was happening.

By the time Kent reached his own room, Swoops was sliding Kent’s phone into his pocket.

“What the fuck?” Kent asked eloquently.

Swoops turned to Kent, eyes serious and normally expressive face carefully blank.  “Trust me, Parser, you don’t want to know.  Not yet, at least.  Come on, get dressed.”

“I had plans this morning,” Kent protested even as he pulled jeans and a t-shirt from his drawers and started to get dressed.  “Skype date with Lexi after he gets home from practice.”  He was out to Swoops, had been for years. 

Swoops’ face darkened.  “Reschedule.  You have a meeting with the front office, management.”

“You have my phone,” Kent pointed out.  He knew that he was dangerously close to close to whining, but he didn’t really care.

Swoops didn’t respond, just ushered Kent out of the door once he was entirely dressed.

* * *

As Swoops drove to the rink, Kent wracked his brain for what he could possibly have done to have the front office calling him in.  He was careful on social media—he had watched Tyler Seguin too closely to make that mistake—he watched himself around the press, he hadn’t been in any fights since before the all-star break, all his hits had been clean, and he never used slurs on the ice.  Essentially, there was no reason Kent could think of for him to be in any trouble.

Swoops delivered Kent to the conference room that upper management was gathered in, as if Kent couldn’t get there himself.  “I’ll be just outside, Parser,” he murmured, leaving Kent alone with management.

The Aces’ general manager and former captain Noah Daniels stood to greet Kent.  “Before we decide what course of action to take, I want you to know that we are all on your side.”

“Thank you?” Kent said slowly.

“Now, what do you want to do?”

Kent stared at Noah.  “I don’t even know what the fuc—what in the world is going on.  Swoops—Jeff—didn’t tell me anything other than I didn’t want to know and that I was getting dragged here.”

Noah sighed.  “I’m not surprised Jeff tried to protect you.  The things being said are not good, and I know that you’re used to a certain level of heckling, but this is different.  The kind of thing that could have you doing something we’d all regret.  We already had to actively threaten Jeff so that he wouldn’t go after anyone.”

“ _What is going on?_ ” Kent demanded.

Noah glanced at Emma, their PR lady, who slid Kent a picture.  The quality was good enough that there was no mistaking the content—Kent himself, naked as far as the picture could tell and with hair messed, wrapped in Tater’s arms, the latter similarly disheveled.  To make matters worse, they were clearly kissing deeply.  Kent looked a little closer and could tell that it had been taken after the Aces’ last game in Providence, a 3-2 double overtime win for the home team, and that it was shot through Tater’s bedroom, the one that faced over his property, not the street.  That was why they hadn’t shut the blinds; they hadn’t anticipated anyone being on fenced and wooded private property.

“This is all over,” Emma said seriously.  “We’re running damage control, but there’s really not much we can do.  We haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone from the Falconers yet, including Mashkov himself.  The only good thing that I can say is that at least we already knew you’re queer and that you’re dating Mashkov.  It gives us a leg up.”

Kent, who was still staring at the photo, replied without looking up.  “No one can say that I can’t play hockey just because I’m queer.  I mean, they can, but every single statistic proves otherwise.  Also, can I borrow someone’s phone?  Jeff has mine and I know Lexi’s personal cell number.  I want to see if I can get through to him.”

Someone, Kent wasn’t positive who, slid him a phone, and he dialed Tater’s number with shaking fingers.

* * *

Tater was perched on a stool in the nook eating one of the Bitty pies that Jack kept bringing in (against the wishes of Nate, but Nate also knew that if he banned pies the entire team would riot, so he was working on cutting his losses) when his phone rang. 

He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Vegas area code, so he decided it was safe enough to answer.

“”Lo?” he asked through a mouthful of pie (it was his favorite kind; he wasn’t going to stop eating it if he could help it).

“Lexi.  Hey.  It’s me.”

Tater immediately dropped his fork, ignoring the curious glances of the other guys in the nook.  Fuck pie; the only important thing was figuring out what was making his Kenny sound so broken and fixing it.

“What is wrong, Kenny?” 

“You don’t know?” Kent asked quietly, but answered himself before Tater could say anything.  “That’s a stupid question.  Um, okay.  Can you get, like, George or someone?  I’m with my management and they can’t get ahold of yours and…god, Lexi.  I’m terrified.”

Tater’s blood ran cold.  He still didn’t know what was happening, but hearing that Kent was so upset, so _scared_ , was enough to get him moving.  He abandoned his pie as he headed up to George’s office. 

She was on the phone, but Tater barged in anyway.

“Something wrong.  Aces on phone.”

George’s eyes went wide and, making polite apologies, she hung up her call.  “What’s going on, Tater?”

“Don’t know.  Just that Kenny’s scared.”  He put his phone on speaker and set it on George’s desk.  “Kenny, have George and me.”

“Georgia, hello.  This is Noah Daniels.  I’m here with Kent and with my upper management.  I take it that you haven’t heard yet?  It’s everywhere so I’m not sure how you missed it, but that’s not important.”

“I’ve been in meetings all morning,” George excused.  “Busy day.  Now, what’s going on?”

“Someone, we don’t know who, took and released a compromising photograph of Kent and Alexei.  It’s clear who they are and there’s no simple platonic way to explain it.”

The shakiness and fear in Kent’s voice now made perfect sense.  In fact, Tater himself was feeling the same way.

George immediately pulled up the internet, looking for the picture.  Tater understood entirely.

“Damn,” she hissed lowly, turning the computer so that Tater could see it.  It was a good picture, but the Aces management were very correct in their assessment that there was no explaining this away.

“Kent is out to everyone in the organization,” Noah continued.

“My sexuality is one of those open NHL secrets,” Kent joked weakly.  “Everyone suspects, but no one knows for sure.  Like, I dunno, Segs.”

“Tater—Alexei—isn’t really out,” George said slowly.

“George knows.  Also Zimmboni and B.  And Swoops.”

Kent’s small chuckle broke Tater’s heart even further.  Usually the memory of that particular event was one that they laughed over until they couldn’t breathe.  That Kent couldn’t even do that much meant he was really fucked up.

“Well, everyone’s going to know now,” said a new voice, a female one.  “I’m Emma, the Aces’ PR manager.  We’re working on organizing a press conference to address this.  The only question is if we want to do it together or not.”

“I’m wanting be with Kenny,” Tater said immediately.

“Beyond just that,” Kent added, “doing this separately will make it look like we’re scared or something, that they got to us enough to push Lexi and I apart.  I know it’s going to be a pain to organize a joint press conference so quickly, especially with us being on opposite sides of the country, but I also think that it’s the best way to address this.”

“How about we move this to just management, give Alexei and Kent some time?” George suggested politely, reaching for her own phone.  “Give me one moment to call you back.”  She started to dial on her own phone.

“Hey, Lexi?” Kent said softly, no longer on speaker.  “Swoops has my phone right now, but give me a bit and I’ll call you, okay?  I love you.”

“Love you too, Kenny.”

* * *

Tater returned to the nook and his abandoned pie, trying to ignore the concerned looks he was getting from Snowy, Marty, Thirdy, and Jack.

“You look like someone died,” Snowy said casually, more chirping than anything.

“I’m gay,” Tater answered, not looking at any of them. 

“Okay,” Snowy responded, drawing the word out.  “Thanks for trusting us.  But is everything okay?  Is that why you look so upset?”

Tater took a deep breath.  He couldn’t hide this much longer and he would rather tell his friends on his own terms.

“I’m gay and I’m date Kent Parson and someone take photo and put it on internet.”

“ _Oh shit,_ ” Jack whispered softly.  Tater was more than aware that Jack of all people knew the fear surrounding something like that happening. 

“Don’t you hate Parson?” Thirdy asked.

Tater didn’t really have the words anymore, so he just took a bite of pie, pie that now was like ash in his mouth.

“Back when Kent and I had our thing in juniors, rough play on the ice was a kind of foreplay for him,” Jack said.  “I’d imagine he hasn’t really grown out of that.  Actually, knowing Kenny, it’s probably even better that you’re on opposite sides.  He’s into that kind of rough shit.”

Tater nodded with a small smile even as Snowy protested that he really didn’t need to know that, thanks, Zimmermann.

Jack got Snowy into a headlock, both of them laughing all the while, but Tater ignored them, trying to figure out what in the world he was going to do.  His family knew he was gay, had known since he was a kid, which made that part easier, but he was still Russian.  Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t actually illegal to be gay in Russia—only spreading queer propaganda was illegal—but it was still dangerous, with rampant homophobia present.  And there was no way he was ever going to be asked to play for his country again.  That hurt worse than he had been expecting.

Tater was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that Thirdy and Marty had moved until he felt someone grab his elbow, pulling him away from the nook.

“We just wanted to let you know that you need anything, you let us know,” Thirdy said.  “You’re an integral part of the team and we’re all here for you.  Parson, too,” he added after a moment.

“Thanks,” Tater said weakly.  “Best team.”

* * *

Kent walked out of the conference room and straight into Swoops.

“You okay, man?”

Kent took a moment to think about.  He was actually surprisingly okay.  In shock, sure, but as things went, he wasn’t doing too badly.  “Can I have my phone back?”

Swoops hesitated.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.  I need to make some calls.  Mom, Kate, and Lexi and I are going to talk some more, too.”

Swoops handed over Kent’s phone.  He ignored the honestly ridiculous amount of notifications he had and went straight to phone, calling Kate, his twin sister.

“Are you okay?  Is there anything I can do?” Kate asked immediately upon picking up.

Kent shook his head before remembering that Kate couldn’t see him. “I’m fine, really.  Management is great and I’ve talked to Lexi and we’re both fine.  I mean, I haven’t read any of the news or anything, but I’ve had bad press before.  We’re going to do a press conference and then I’m going to keep my head down and play hockey.”

“Good,” Kate said.  “Don’t let them treat you like you’re less for not being straight.  If you’re having problems off the ice, tell me.  I know people who know people and can get you FBI protection if needed.  On the ice, I’m pretty damn sure that your team has your back.  Don’t let any assholes goad you, though.  Don’t take stupid penalties or whatever.”

“Hell no,” Kent replied.  “I never do, though.  Best revenge is living well or whatever it is they say—in my case, the best revenge is staying on the ice and scoring goals.  Hey, I’m going to call Mama now.  I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kate replied, much more nicely than she would usually.  They always chirped each other, but this was too serious and Kate knew that.

Kent’s call to his mother took much longer.  She was nearly impossible to get off the phone with, and only a lie that management was calling him got her off the line.

Finally, Kent called Tater back,

“Hey, babe.  Are you ready for this shitshow?”

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's pretty much impossible that the Aces would have known before the Falconers, especially to the extent I wrote it, but I ran with it for plotline and drama.
> 
> Kate is Kent's twin sister. She runs the FBI field office in Boston. She kinda looks a bit like AJ Cook. 
> 
> Also, Kent's mom is from Puerto Rico who immigrated a year or two before the twins were born. His dad was a white American who walked out on the family, leaving his mom to raise her twins in a Latino neighborhood in Manhattan. I'm white and from a small town, so if I write anything that I shouldn't have or that's incorrect, please tell me. I would really appreciate it. Also if you want to talk to me about either this headcanon or the Kate one, you can find me on both twitter and tumblr at smallinsaneone. I'd love to talk about them.
> 
> Title of the fic and chapter titles are from Bruce Springsteen's Death to My Hometown.


End file.
